Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Graces Malfoy & Thomas Higgs, who are my own. I do not claim any ownership of the characters or settings contained within. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line
Author's notes: Special thanks to Denarii for editing this monster of a chapter! It's like 22 pages and he went through it like a champ.
Special thanks to: Taffyrose, ToxicCrackerz, sapurplemonkey, spannieren, TrueColorsNeverFade, rusher13101, Goomy Goom, Phoenix, and galyardt for their reviews!
I am super excited for these next chapters so enjoy! Also, Happy Valentine's Day!
Chapter 20
"I think you shouldn't get involved," Ron muttered, as Hermione sat down in the common room and looked up the stairs leading to the boys dorms.
"I'm not getting involved," Hermione snipped agitatedly. "I'm just reminding Neville that he should talk to Hannah. It's been over a week, and Neville hasn't said anything to her."
"'Mione," Ron groaned, "Just let it rest. He's going to. Neville's a good bloke, he just doesn't want to hurt her feelings."
"And it was only one date," Harry added. "Why does he have to say anything at all. He doesn't fancy her, its obvious. Hannah will eventually realize."
"He must fancy her a bit though, he did kiss her," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
Ron and Harry both exchanged looks behind their friend, each boy remembering the conversation with Neville the other night.
"I believe Nev mentioned that Hannah kissed him," Ron said sheepishly, not at all liking to talk about his friend's private life.
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it really sounds like he doesn't at all fancy her."
"Yeah," Ron scoffed, "it sounds like he has more of a thing for Malfoy then it does Hannah."
"What do you mean?" Hermione questioned, turning around and glaring at the two boys in front of her. "Why would you think he likes Malfoy?"
"It was just a joke," Ron said rolling his eyes. "Just leave Neville alone. He seems really happy this morning, which is a nice change."
Harry groaned and elbowed Ron hard in his side. Ron at first didn't realize what he had done to deserve such treatment, but then he saw Hermione's face.
"Why has Neville been unhappy lately?"
"We don't know," Harry sighed. "Maybe Malfoy is giving him a hard time with tutoring. She sent him a book for beginners the other day. Honestly, 'Mione, we don't know, but today he seemed really happy. He was even humming in the shower."
"Why didn't you ask?"
"Neville's a pretty private person," Ron shrugged. "He really isn't the sort to talk about himself much, and we just figured if he wanted to tell us he would."
"Maybe—"
"Hermione," Ron wined, "leave the poor bloke be. Now can we please go to breakfast?"
Hermione looked as though she were about to continue arguing when Neville started to stroll down from the stairs. Both other members of the trio groaned loudly as she started towards him.
"Neville, can I talk to you?"
"Yeah!" Neville exclaimed enthusiastically. "I actually wanted to talk to you too about something. Do you think you could recommend me more muggle books? Like ones other than Shakespeare. Not that I don't like the ones by him, I just was thinking that some more variety may be nice and—Oh! I forgot to tell you, I read Hamlet the other day, and—"
"You read Hamlet?" Hermione asked surprised.
"Yeah, I did. It was really great," Neville smiled, "Much better than Romeo and Juliet in my opinion. Not that it wasn't good," he added, worried he might have offended Hermione. "Anyways, could you recommend me more muggle books?"
"Yes, of course," Hermione said, a bit daunted by Neville's demeanor.
"Great!" Neville cheered, clearly excited over Hermione's promise. Hermione just continued looking at her friend. Neville seemed so different to her now. She was used to soft-spoken, shy Neville, but not this. Neville on occasion could be this exuberant, like when he got a new plant or during games, but there was always a reason. "Ummm… you wanted to talk to me about something?" Neville reminded, growing increasingly nervous the longer Hermione was staring at him like that.
"Oh! Umm yes, I'm sorry I was distracted by… uh, nevermind. Anyways, I wanted to talk to you about Hannah."
"Oh," Neville sighed, deflating at once from his good mood.
"I really think you need to talk to her, Neville. It has been over a week now, and she really has no idea."
Neville blushed and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. "Okay, I'll talk to her," he murmured, still avoiding Hermione's gaze.
"This morning," Hermione added for him.
"'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, deciding to no longer just listen in on the conversation. "Why does it have to be this morning?"
"Because," Hermione stressed, giving her friend the dirtiest of glares. "It's been long enough, and Hannah should know as soon as possible. The poor girl shouldn't have to go through another day of obsessing over whether or not Neville here is going to ask her out. You know she's been going over every aspect of their date, wondering if she did something wrong? She's even going over their kiss, she thinks that maybe she was a lousy—"
"Hermione!" Neville interjected, not at all liking that his and Hannah's personal life was being exposed.
The bushy haired girl blushed, but nodded in agreement.
"I'll talk to her," Neville promised, his hands playing with the strap on his rucksack as he looked to the side.
"Good," Hermione nodded, "Though I don't understand why you waited so long, Neville. You could have told her the night of your date, or anytime after that."
"'Mione," Ron scolded, "Will you let off him? He said he would talk to her."
"I'm just saying, for future reference," Hermione said defensively, turning back to Neville. "It's not that I'm mad at you or anything, Nev. I just think that you handled this wrong."
"It was one date!" Ron exclaimed, putting a friendly arm around Neville. "Why should Neville have to say anything at all? Merlin's pants, Hermione!"
"It's fine," Neville sighed, not wanting Ron and Hermione to be in yet another fight. "I'll talk to her. I'm going down to breakfast."
Neville hurried out of the common room before Hermione or anyone else in the trio could walk out with him. He knew that he needed to talk to Hannah, Hermione had done a brilliant job of pointing it out, but it was still something he dreaded. Hannah was his friend, and though he didn't want to be with her like that, he also didn't want to have an awkward discussion with her on the reasons why.
Maybe she won't ask any questions, Neville prayed, turning on the staircase and entering the Great Hall. Hannah was eating her breakfast with Susan. He saw her look up at him when he entered, but he quickly looked away and headed towards the Gryffindor table. Oh Merlin, I'm such a coward.
More out of habit than anything else, Neville looked over to the Slytherin table. To his surprise Graces was looking over at him, and if he wasn't mistaken she actually looked concerned. She was frowning slightly, and her face had this certain amount of tenderness to it that he usually never saw her display in public. Neville raised his hand slightly on the table, in a subtle wave and offered her a small smile. Graces coyly looked around the table, making sure everyone was distracted by something else, before she returned a brief little half smile.
It was more than Neville had ever received from her before when he smiled at her in public, and he probably would have enjoyed the moment more if he didn't see Hannah over at the Hufflepuff table from the corner of his eye. Neville tried to distract himself with a piece of toast and marmalade, but no matter how long he chewed the toast he it took ages to go down his throat and seemed heavy in his stomach. Still, he attempted to eat his breakfast before continuing with the day, it wasn't until Hannah smiled over at him that he dropped the toast dejectedly on his plate.
Deciding that there was no better time than the present to talk to her, he rose from the table and headed over towards her. The gleam on Hannah's face sent snakes in his stomach as he approached her.
"Hey, Nev!" she called, as Susan Bones giggled next to her, making Neville flush even more.
"Hey." Neville could barely stand to look at Hannah, but he gave her a wry smile. "Listen, Hannah, could we ummm talk?" He looked over at Susan for a moment before meeting Hannah's eyes. "Privately."
Hannah's green eyes immediately lost their luster while her face fell as she took in the weight of Neville's words. "Yes, of course," she whispered, glancing at her friend a moment before standing up. Susan gave her a sympathetic look which Hannah turned away from, clearly embarrassed.
Neville decided to wait until they were outside of the castle to speak. He wondered if there was a proper way of doing this. I should have asked Hermione, he thought sullenly.
"Listen, Hannah, you know I think you're a wonderful girl, and I really enjoy your company, but—" Neville stopped mid-sentence as he heard a cross between a choke and a sob from Hannah. Her face was screwed up and unruly tears were already starting to fall from her eyes. Neville closed his eyes for a moment, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry, Hannah," he apologized solemnly, which caused the girl before him to begin crying more freely into her hands.
Unsure of what to do, but not willing to do nothing, he gently pulled his friend into his chest letting her weep against his robes. "I don't understand," she cried into him, her voice muffled by his clothes. "I thought everything was going so well."
Neville swallowed hard and ran, soothing circles into Hannah's back. "You are a wonderful friend, Hannah, and bloody gorgeous too, but I just am unable to think of you in that way."
"But...but maybe if we went on a few more dates you could," Hannah suggested, looking up at Neville hopefully. Neville's heart clenched as he looked into his friend's puffy eyes, but he knew that he couldn't give her what she must have read his answer on his face, because she broke down again and whimpered as she clutched him tightly to her.
"I'm so sorry, Hannah. I truly am, I feel horrid about all of this."
"You-you didn't give me a ch-chance," Hannah wailed, as she tore away from her friend.
Neville didn't even argue her point; which caused Hannah's tears to turn to tears of rage. "You didn't even try! We only went on one date, and you were distracted the whole time! You didn't even try!"
"Hannah," Neville said carefully ,"wouldn't you rather be with someone that doesn't need to try to see you that way? Wouldn't you rather be fancied and chased by a bloke? Have someone who is mad for you, that can't get you out of their head even for a moment?"
Hannah collapsed in on herself in another fit of sobs, before turning around and hugging her middle, as though if she couldn't see Neville then he wouldn't see her heart break. Students were starting to emerge from the castle all unable to stop themselves from glancing over at Neville and Hannah. Neville moved to shield Hannah from their offensive stares.
"I wanted you to be that bloke," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
"I know you did,"Neville sighed morosely, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. Hannah turned away from him, and headed towards the greenhouse. Neville waited for her to enter the class before he started over. The moment he entered the greenhouse he wanted to hide. Everyone was looking over at him and whispering. He looked over to see Hannah talking to Hermione looking as though she was on the brink of breaking down and crying inconsolably at any moment. The other girl nodded her head and held her hand sympathetically as Hannah continued to confide in her.
Neville turned away from the scene and went over to his desk where Graces was staring contemptuously at the scene before them, her face not hiding her condemnation.
"Don't stare," Neville said, taking his seat.
"I'll do whatever I like, Longbottom," Graces said coldly. "She's being pathetic."
"She's heartbroken," Neville defended.
"There's no excuse for showing such weakness in public," Graces scoffed, finally turning away from the scene as Professor Sprout walked in and headed over to Hannah, clearly worried about one of her students. "She's an embarrassment."
"Don't act like you never cry," Neville said under his breathe, so no one could hear.
"I don't cry in public. Crying is acceptable when you are alone, but that is the only time and place for it." Graces looked over her shoulder to see Professor Sprout leading Hannah out of the class, gently holding her across her shoulders in a motherly manner. "I would not allow for a boy to turn me into a blubbering fool. Especially one that didn't hold such feelings for me."
Neville sighed, realizing that this was not a game he was going to win. Today just isn't my day. He looked around and made sure no one was listening before subtly leaning in towards Graces. "Please, Graces, just don't. I get that I can't ask you to be nice to Hannah, heaven forbid, but please at least for today don't be cruel."
Graces didn't respond, Neville supposed he didn't expect her to, instead she continued to meticulously set up the desk to her liking. Two quills to the left, tools lined at the top of the desk, parchment in front of her, previous class notes to her right, ink well to the-
"Why is your inkwell in the middle of the desk?" Neville asked confused. "You always put it in the upper right corner of your parchment."
"It's not always there," Graces argued, reaching in her bag for her herbology book.
"Yes, it is. Two quills to the left, tools lined at the top of the desk, parchment in front of you, previous class notes to her right, ink well to the right of the paper in front of you," Neville stressed slowly, " and your herbology book in the upper left hand corner; after you open it to the chapter the class is on. And that is without mentioning that you space everything evenly apart."
Neville blushed as Graces stood gaping up at him, a look of pure shock on her face. "How—you can't—I mean—" The Slytherin seemed to realize she was babbling, and blushed a violent red before regaining control of herself. "Longbottom, how is it that you consistently can forget to bring your inkwell to class, but you can remember how I order my desk?"
It was now Neville's turn to blush. "Repetition?" he offered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Packing your inkwell should be repetition," Graces muttered irritatedly.
"I did pack it today," Neville chimed, taking out his inkwell and placing it in front of him.
"Oh," Graces muttered quietly. Neville frowned at Graces response, she seemed, well, upset. Why would she look upset about me remembering my inkwell.
"I decided to just keep two in my bag. That way when I lose one I will have the other and I felt bad that I was always knocking your arm or hand when we go to dip our quills. Though, I suppose I am always knocking your arm when I write, you started taking the left side of the desk. Which is odd, you used to take the right. Not that I mind, it's fine if you prefer the left, it's just as you know I'm left handed and you're right so it leaves us elbow to elbow the whole period. I just figured with you not liking to be touched that you would—"
Neville suddenly realized why Graces took that side and why she seemed disappointed by him remembering his inkwell. His face must have shown that he figured it out, because when he looked over at Graces her cheeks had turned bright red.
"You—"
"I can move," Graces interrupted heatedly, moving to get her things.
"No!" Neville exclaimed, reaching out and holding her arm preventing her from moving her stuff. "No, please don't it's fine."
"No, you're right," Graces clipped, tearing her arm away and moving to set her thing to the right. "It would be best if I was on the right."
Neville watched as Graces began fumbling with her herbology tools. He knew she was upset, he was unsure if she was just embarrassed that he had realized she liked being near him or if she was mad about it. Either way, he knew she was building up those walls of her's. I guess I'll have to knock them down.
sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
Graces could feel the heat from her cheeks spreading to the back of her neck. She had never been so embarrassed. No, embarrassed isn't the right word, she was mortified.
I'm so pathetic. Merlin, he must think—
Wait. Why do I care what he thinks? I shouldn't, this is all so stupid. I'm so stupid. Stupid. Stupid Stupid. Stu—
"I like touching you too," Neville whispered in her ear. Graces flushed even more at his hot breath caressed her neck.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Graces mumbled taking a step away.
That didn't deter the Gryffindor though, instead he moved with her. "I really do," Neville continued, bending his head down so no one could hear him. "I look forward to days where Professor Sprout has us do book work, just so I can have your arm touching mine the whole time."
Graces chanced a glance up, and immediately regretted it. Neville was so handsome, it was easy sometimes to ignore it, but not when his face was bent so near to hers, his jaw firm and his eyes alive with determination.
"Also, considering the arrangement we have, I would rather you enjoyed touching me," Neville paused for a moment and Graces watched as a blush began to creep along his neck to his cheeks. "And… erm… I certainly don't mind you touching me in areas other than my arm," he whispered.
Graces couldn't help, but note that his voice seemed much more husky at his last confession and even through his blush he seemed to be looking at her like… like—
Like he wants to take you right here on this table.
Graces swallowed hard and tried to rid her mind of the images that were now floating through her head, images that were definitely having an effect on her.
She awkwardly cleared her throat and began placing her things back to where she wanted them. Neville went back to his side of the desk and Graces watched from the corner of her eye as he placed the inkwell back into his bag, a small smile on his lips as he did so. When Professor Sprout reappeared with Hannah trailing along behind her, the blond's eyes puffy and red from crying. Graces watched as the smile disappeared from Neville's face and she hated Hannah in that moment. She forced herself to look away from the Hufflepuff and faced the front of the room, patiently waiting for Professor Sprout to begin.
"Today we are going to prune Fanged Geraniums. I know that you all have worked with them last year, and some of you are a bit nervous to be around the plant again." Professor Sprout glanced over at Graces for a moment, clearly remembering when her fanged Geranium almost tore her throat out last year. Luckily, Pansy had moved Graces right before the plant got a hold of her neck. " Remember to be cautious in your movements around the plant, and to be careful with what you are removing from the shoots. Pruning allows your plant to direct its energy into blooming more beautifully and maintaining healthy shoots. It is also vital if you want to have healthy buds. I will be going around to see all of your work."
Graces reached out for her notes on pruning and her shears; she was about to head over to her and Neville's plant when she realized Professor Sprout was in front of her desk looking at her. The plump woman seemed uncomfortable, which to Graces seemed odd.
"Miss Malfoy," Professor Sprout started cautiously, clearly still unsure of what she was about to say.
"Professor Sprout," Graces greeted, not bothering to hide the suspicion in her voice.
"I realize that you are not the most… talented herbology student in the class." Graces felt her cheeks warm and glared at the woman before her. "Not that you don't try," Professor Sprout added quickly, "or that you don't understand the material. I think it could be argued that you almost understand the material as well as Mr. Longbottom here, but the fact remains that—"
"Plants want to kill me," Graces interjected coldly, "Go on."
The head of Hufflepuff blinked a few times, still clearly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yes, well, anyways, I just felt that I should remind you that in order for me to pass you in this course you need to be able to prune a Fanged Geranium; as well as a Venomous Tentacula."
"What?! She can't!" Graces turned to see Neville staring at the Herbology Professor as though she were insane. "Professor, those plants could kill her. They will try to kill her. She can't prune them. Do you not remember what happened last year with the Fanged Geranium? Or this year with the Devil's Snare? I've never seen plants react so violently towards someone. No, she can't do it."
Professor Sprout was completely taken aback by her favorite student's behavior, she stared at the boy in front of her unsure of how to explain that her hands were tied on the matter, but Graces got to it first.
"That won't be a problem, Professor," Graces declared, not even looking at Neville.
"Gra—Malfoy, I don't think—"
"It doesn't matter what you think, Longbottom," Graces drawled, "You are not my teacher."
"No, but I'm—"
"AND I am sure Professor Sprout does not appreciate you telling her how to run her class," Graces added, giving Neville a scolding look.
Neville looked over at Graces with the most despondent of looks. The blond girl just glared at him though, angry that he was being so obvious about his concern for her.
"You'll be hurt," he emphasized, looking imploringly at her. "You could be severely hurt."
"That is not something you should be concerning yourself with," Graces replied coldly, turning away and heading to the plant. She was in the middle of the room when she felt Neville grab her arm.
"Don't touch the dome," Neville pleaded slowly. "Don't do a thing to that plant, Malfoy. I'm serious."
"Fuck off," Graces gritted, wrenching her arm away.
"Just wait," Neville continued, ignoring how she was glaring at him. "You shouldn't be working without me anyways, so just wait."
"Maybe you didn't understand me the first time, Longbottom," Graces sneered, "but I said fuck off."
"It's her own funeral, Nev," Ernie called over, as Graces headed towards the plant. "If Malfoy wants to get herself killed, let her."
"Malfoy!" Neville called, pretending that Ernie did not just make a comment about his, well, about Graces. "Isn't self-preservation a Slytherin trait?"
Graces paused at the glass dome encasing the plant, the plant that was already lunging against the glass towards her, and—to Neville's great relief—turned, folding her arms. "You had better hurry, Longbottom."
Graces watched with a cold glare as Neville scurried over to Professor Sprout, and though she would never in a million years admit it out loud, she thought it absolutely adorable when he fell over two stools rushing over to the Professor. Deciding that she did not need to be staring over at Neville, she started organizing the work station. She was just examining her pruning shears when a looming shadow distracted her. For a moment she thought Neville had returned, but when she looked over Hannah was standing beside her looking the other way. Graces continued to darkly glare at her, and she was sure Hannah noticed despite the fact she hadn't once looked at her, because the blonde fidgeted with her braids and seemed to shift from foot to foot. Graces scowled at the foolish girl, and was about to make a scathing comment, when she remembered what Neville asked earlier.
He asked me not to be cruel, that isn't a huge sacrifice on my part. I'll just ignore her. Graces closed her eyes and let out an inward sigh before going back to examining her sheers. Finally, deciding they were sharp enough, she started reviewing her notes.
"What are they talking about?" the hufflepuff wondered aloud.
Graces placed her notes down and turned to see Neville heatedly arguing with Professor Sprout. Both girls stared in awe as the usually shy boy quarreled animatedly with his favorite Professor. Graces was so glad that everyone around was in too much shock with Neville's behavior to notice her. Because she was sure if anyone was looking at her they would see how obviously turned on she was. Neville was standing tall, for once, his face stern and ascetic as he continued to point his finger down demandingly at the ground and then towards Graces. Making it obvious to the room that the argument was about her, though no one could hear what was being said. One of them must have put a silencing charm around them.
Neville had just finished what seemed to be a very long rant, a rant that Graces was sure was going to earn him a detention or at least a harsh scolding, but to her surprise Professor Sprout put a motherly hand on his shoulder instead. Graces wished she could hear what it was the Professor was saying, it seemed that she was apologizing, and being very nice about it, but Neville just seemed more upset though he didn't say anymore. The sandy haired boy gave her a brief nod and started walking towards the work station.
"I—I have to go," Hannah said shakily, and turning towards Graces, "Will you just give this to Neville?"
Graces eyed the piece of parchment warily, debating if she would take it.
"Please, Malfoy, just hand it to him."
"He's almost here, you could just—"
"I can't," Hannah interrupted impatiently, as she wiped the newly born tears from her eyes. "Please, Malfoy, just hand it to him."
Graces groaned, but held out her hand for the note. Hannah left just before Neville arrived at the desk, he was still frowning, but his face softened a bit as he watched Hannah walk away.
"What happened there?"
Graces shrugged and flinged the note to Neville. "For some reason she wanted me to give you that note."
"And you actually took it to give to me?"
"Obviously," Graces drawled rolling her eyes.
She watched as Neville looked over to where Hannah was, it was clear that he did not want to read whatever the note said, but he took in a deep breath and unfolded the piece of parchment.
"Should you be doing that?"
"Doing what?" Neville muttered, reading the note.
"Just opening a note from a girl you have hurt, she might have cursed it."
"Hannah wouldn't do that."
"You never know."
Neville looked over the piece of parchment at Graces for a moment, before continuing on reading. Graces stood there awkwardly, not sure why she was standing there like a lost puppy and not doing her own work. Because you want to know what that note says.
"Right," Neville concluded, pocketing the parchment and turning to the plant at the desk. "Stand by me, the whole time, and don't even move towards the plant without me telling you to, okay?"
"You seem mad," Graces commented. Not moving or liking the fact that Neville shared no detail on the letter with her, and that he was being so bossy towards her.
"I am mad," Neville affirmed, sharpening his sheers. "Now, will you come here so I can show you how to prune this plant?"
Graces moved slowly over to him, unsure of how to react to this new side of him. Sure, Neville had been mad at her before, but this was very different. He wasn't mad at her, he was mad at someone else on her behalf. It was odd.
"You shouldn't be mad at Professor Sprout," Graces commented. "She can't do anything about it. It's the curriculum. Her hands are tied."
"When did curriculums become more important than students' lives?" Neville asked bitterly.
"Forever and a day ago," Graces shrugged. "It's part of living in this world; dealing with dangerous magical things. We get to be magical, but we are put in dangerous situations in order to teach us. My father feels it is a good reminder of responsibility and respect. He would give Draco and I dangerous items all the time to teach us early on to respect magic and be responsible with it. He also wanted to prevent us from being frightened of it. Something muggle raised children are not exposed to. My point is don't be upset with Professor Sprout over this. I was well aware of what I was going to do in this class."
"It's not right," Neville maintained, clearly not ready to let go of his anger.
"'Fair is foul, and foul is fair,'" Graces recited, a little smirk playing in the corner of her lips.
Neville frowned at the riddle, but decided the more pressing thing to focus on was the project. With a heavy sigh he admitted that they better get started. Graces watched as he cautiously started to lift the glass dome covering the Fanged Geranium. "Don't move," he ordered as the dome was almost off.
Graces raised an assessing eyebrow at Neville's assertiveness, but did as she was told. In truth she sort of liked this take-charge, angry Neville. He's sexy when he is mad. I wonder if he knows that? Graces thought idly, as she waited for the rest of Neville's instructions. He had just finished taking the dome completely off when one of the Geraniums shot out towards Graces neck. Before Graces could react though, Neville had her wrapped in his arms, exposing his own back to the plant.
"Are you okay?" Neville asked, staring down at her, one of his hands checking her neck for any marks.
"Yeah, I'm fine, " Graces assured, taking in a deep breath and moving away.
"I told her you couldn't do this," Neville fumed, "that the plants are abnormally aggressive to you. This is a mistake, I'm going to go talk to her again."
"Longbottom."
"I mean, you could have been killed, If that plant tore your jugular out then—
"Longbottom."
"—you would be dead! It's outrageous for her to ask you to do this, Well, I'm not going to—"
"LONGBOTTOM!" Graces shouted, gaining the sandy haired boys attention. "The plant, why didn't it bite you?"
Neville frowned for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "They're used to me, I'm around them all the time. It's really rare that any of the plants in here attack me. I helped Professor Sprout grow these Fanged Geranium, so it's really rare that they will feel threatened by me and attack. You don't bite the hand that feeds you sort of thing."
"They don't have eyes though, they attack my scent, so that means they know your scent," Graces elaborated, becoming more excited as she began to think up a plan.
"Yeah," Neville agreed, confused to as to why this was making Graces so excited.
"Don't you see?" Neville shook his head impatiently, just wanting Graces to get to the point. "If we can mask my scent to be like yours I should be able to prune the plant without any problems! I'll pass the class, and we can continue this for the other plants as well, so I can be more useful in the practical part!"
The sandy haired boy didn't answer, instead he was just smiling down at Graces fondly.
Graces scowled, "What?"
"Nothing," Neville lied, "would you mind going in my rucksack and getting my spare shirt? I'll stay with the plant, I don't really want to leave you alone with it."
Graces nodded and went over to Neville's bag. She opened the bag, and was about to accio the shirt to herself, but then stopped. I wonder what he keeps in his bag. Graces turned to make sure Neville wasn't watching, before peering inside the magically charmed bag. Immediately she was disappointed. Neville's bag was mostly filled with books, old inkwells, broken quills, and crumbled up parchment. There really wasn't much in there to give her insight about him. Other than that he is messy… really messy.
Seeing the spare shirt, she reached her arm out for it, but upon removing it she saw a small wooden box laid neatly underneath with the name Frank Longbottom burned into the wood. Graces gently opened the box, making sure as to not take it out of the bag. She knew that she should probably leave it, that Neville probably wouldn't like her looking through his personal belongings, but she couldn't bring herself to let this opportunity go. Graces frowned when she saw the contents, there was a funny looking coin, what she assumed to be Neville's broken wand, and empty wrappers upon wrappers of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.
"What are you doing?"
Graces jumped when she heard Neville's voice behind her. She made sure to keep her hand in the bag, completely covering what she was looking at, as she very carefully closed the box.
"I'm looking for your scarf," Graces lied cooly, bringing her hand out of the bag."I thought I would be safer if I had something covering my neck."
"Yeah, you probably would be," Neville admitted, "but I lost my scarf last week."
"Oh well, it's fine. I'm sure we'll be fine." The Slytherin stood up to go back over to the plant, she did feel slightly guilty for lying to Neville. Especially because she knew how he felt about lying.
"Malfoy, wait." Graces stopped and her heart leaped in her chest. Did she not put the box back exactly how he had it? Did he know she was lying? Graces turned slowly and did her best to act natural. "I think it would be best if you put my things on here."
Graces let out a relieved sigh and walked back over to Neville, who was holding his shirt out for her to move into.
"Why do you have an extra shirt in your bag?" Graces asked, hoping to get her mind off the fact she lied to Neville.
The sandy haired boy just chuckled as he rolled up the sleeves on his shirt so it fit Graces better. "I tend to need an extra shirt most days, I'll spill something on it, Seamus will set my sleeve on fire, or I'll just get it too dirty to wear after volunteering to help Professor Sprout put dragon manure down."
Graces thanked Neville for the shirt and started to head over to the plant. She didn't really like Neville dressing her. She allowed it because she didn't want to put her own scent all over the shirt and get killed, but the act itself was too intimate, too familiar, and she was worried out of her mind someone would see. Well, people did see, but she doubted they saw anything in it. Especially because she made sure to look annoyed whenever she saw someone looking over.
Graces stopped a few feet from the desk and stared at the menacing plant before her. The flower was moving like a cobra in the glass dome facing her, as though enticing her to come near.
"It can't see you," Neville reassured.
"I think it still senses me," Graces dead panned crossing her arms, as though she wasn't worried about getting her throat torn out.
"Face me," Neville ordered. Graces raised an eyebrow at the boy beside her, but did as she was told. Neville was removing his own tie.
"I can't wear that!" Graces exclaimed scandalized.
"Malfoy, again isn't self-preservation a Slytherin trait?" Graces gave Neville a dark look, but didn't protest as he wrapped his tie around her and began tying it. "I think it would be best if you put your hair up; like in that bun you do for potions."
Graces began putting her hair up, while Neville fidgeted with the tie, trying to get it to cover her most vulnerable part of her neck. When Neville began undoing the tie for the third time Graces spoke up. "Longbottom, it's fine." Neville ignored her and continued to try to redo it. "It's fine," Graces stressed, uncomfortable with Neville being so close with so many people around.
"I just want to be sure," Neville said, continuing on.
"Longbottom, stop. This is ri—"
"Graces," Neville whispered. "Please let me do this. I—I care about you. Go ahead and roll your eyes, but I do. I really care about you, and when you were attacked by the Devils snare, I—" Neville sighed. "It really frightened me, so please just let me do this. At the worst we waste a few minutes, but it makes me feel better."
Graces stared down at Neville for a moment. He was still kneeling down holding the tie, but he had stopped doing it up. He was just waiting for her to allow him to continue. Unsure of what she could say she nodded and let him continue on. She watched as his eyes focused on only her neck, and his lips pursed in concentration, a small frown playing on his forehead. He cared so much. She wished he didn't. She didn't deserve it.
"I lied to you," she admitted, quietly. Unable to bare the thought of Neville caring so much for her when he didn't know her.
Neville paused for a moment, before slowly looking up at her. Graces had expected to see his face darkened in anger, especially after what happened the last time she lied to him, and was utterly surprised when she saw a patient face staring up in her eyes waiting for her to continue.
"I wasn't looking for your scarf, I was just… looking," Graces blushed.
"I see," Neville murmured, going back to the tie. "Is there a reason you were 'just looking'?"
"I don't know… I guess I just wanted to know more about you. Sometimes it feels like you know more about me than I do you."
Neville hummed his agreement and continued to focus on the tie. "So do you know more about me now?" Neville asked calmly, still not giving any hint to whether he was angry or not.
"No," Graces concluded. Neville looked up at her for a brief moment, but remained silent. Graces could feel her anxiety peak more and more as Neville didn't say anything. "Well… I guess I realized how messy you were, but I sort of already had an idea of that."
Neville gave a slight chuckle and stood up, finally done with the tie.
"Are you mad?" Graces asked, in a small voice.
"No, Graces, I'm not mad," Neville gently reassured , looking down at her. "I'm disappointed that you don't feel comfortable enough to just talk to me, but I'm not mad." The sandy haired boy paused for a moment. "I am hoping, though, that one day you will feel you can."
Graces knew Neville was being sincere, it was written all over his face that what he was saying he meant, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything back. If anything Neville's proclamation just reminded her of all that she could not have with him. It was so easy for him to offer this, he didn't seem to realize what it was he was offering. Graces knew that she could never take it, though. No one offered this sort of intimacy without wanting intimacy back in return.
"We should start on the plant," Graces reminded awkwardly, not wanting to be standing here like this any longer with Neville. It was too intimate, too real, and just altogether too confusing. They had agreed that this was just supposed to be about sex. It wasn't supposed to be anything else, but every time they were together things just got, well, confusing.
Because it's not about sex. Graces ignored the nasty voice in her head and took her position in front of the plant as Neville stood behind her lifting the glass casing up.
"Don't move your hands out until I say to," Neville instructed as he placed the dome down. Graces listened and kept her hands close to her sides, holding the sheer tightly in anticipation.
"Why are you standing behind me?" Graces asked panicked, realizing that she was directly between Neville and the plant.
She felt Neville's hands move out onto her arms until they were placed over her own. "I have nothing to cover your hands with," Neville explained, "you can't wear my gardening gloves, they're too big for you, and if you fumbled with the sheers and nicked the stem the plant will not hesitate to kill you. I'm going to keep my hands over yours as you work. Now, move slowly and prune starting at the base."
Graces nervously started to move forward. The plant in front of her moved closer, causing her to flinch. "It's going to bite me," she worried aloud, her hands now starting to tremble.
"It won't," Neville murmured quietly in her ear, not taking his eyes off the bud moving closer, "not as long as my hands are over yours. It's just checking for a threat, I have you, you're safe."
Graces nodded, but still could not bring herself to move her hands forward towards the plant.
"Do you want me to hold your hands as you do it?" Neville asked.
"Don't be ridiculous," Graces hissed.
A few students looked over, and Ernie offered Neville a sympathetic look when he saw Graces scowl.
Neville blushed at all the attention, but didn't move away from Graces not wanting to leave her vulnerable to an attack. "Graces," Neville whispered quietly, tilting his face slightly so no one could see him speak. "I know you are frightened—"
"I'm not frightened!" Graces said, offended. "I'm just… nervous. That's all, but I am not frightened." Graces felt Neville tighten himself around her. His arms were still over hers, but they were no longer hovering over her. They were pressed skin to skin with her and his body was pressed closer to hers.
"I have you," Neville murmured against her hair so no one could hear. "Just trust me."
"Is everything alright?" Professor Sprout asked moving towards the two students.
"Everything is fine," Neville clipped cooly, focusing his attention back on the plant as though the Professor wasn't there. "Malfoy, start pruning the base."
Graces looked over at the professor and back at the plant, clearly now more nervous with an audience. "Malfoy," Neville pressed taking her hands in his own now and moving them forward.
"Neville, what is it that you are doing exactly?" Professor Sprout asked, concerned as Graces hands reached out.
"Working."
"Yes, but why are you hovering over Miss Malfoy?" the professor asked cautiously, staring at her two students.
"Masking her scent with mine, in the hopes that the plant will be tricked and not rip her throat out," Neville explained in a monotone, still focusing all his attentions on Graces. "Make a thinning cut, just above that dormant bud. Make sure to angle the shears properly. Good. Very good." Graces was slowly pruning the base of the plant, she chanced a sideways glance to see how the professor was reacting to her favorite student's new temperament towards her. She just seemed uncomfortable, maybe even a little guilt-ridden.
"That was a wonderful idea, Neville," she complimented quietly. "How did you come up with it?"
Graces turned her head to see how Neville would take the peace offering. He seemed torn about it. His lips were still pursed, eyes still forward not looking at the woman, but they were softened.
"Eyes on the plant, Malfoy," Neville ordered briskly. Graces did as she was told, and continued to tentatively prune the plant. Neville let out a small sigh. "The plant attacked her, like I said it would, so I blocked her with my body to keep it from tearing out her throat."
"And the plant stopped mid attack?"
"Yeah," Neville confirmed softly. "Graces here was the one that figured out the plan to mask her scent with mine. She's pretty excited to be able to be more active in the practical part of the class." Graces turned and gave Neville a dark glare. "Malfoy! Eyes forward."
"I'll let you two get back to work," Professor Sprout smiled. "Oh, and Neville I almost forgot. There is some gillyweed that I am going to need to harvest soon, and I was wondering—"
"Yes, of course," Neville broke in, glancing over at Sprout and offering her a smile. "Just let me know when."
Graces waited until Sprout was gone before commenting. "You are very forgiving."
"Mmm," Neville hummed, concentrating on Graces hands. "That's too rough, ease up on the blade… Too light, you want to remain firm, but gentle. Better."
"Why are you so forgiving?"
"There was no reason not to," Neville shrugged, angling his arm so it was more over hers as the plant came closer. Graces knew that she should be frightened that a lethal plant was moving so close to her wrists, but the only thing she could think of was how wonderful Neville smelled and how handsome he looked when he was concentrating.
"You keep becoming a little rough with it," Neville pointed out gently. "That's why it is moving closer now. Try to maintain the same pressure on the blade." Graces could feel her heart rate go up as Neville took her hand in his and applied the correct pressure as she cut. "Do you feel the difference?"
No.
"I'm unsure," Graces breathed, trying desperately hard to concentrate on what Neville was trying to teach her and not his warm breath caressing the side of her neck. She had heard the term weak in the knees before, but this was her first time ever experiencing it firsthand. She felt as though her whole body was vibrating with anticipation, and so much of her effort was just being placed in trying to hide the effect from Neville.
"Graces?"
Bloody hell, Graces thought as a shiver, an actual shiver went down her spine from Neville just whispering her name in her ear.
"It's okay, here lets just move back from the plant. I'll prune for a little bit, then if you feel up to it you can continue."
Graces didn't know what was worse: Neville thinking she shivered because she was frightened, or him knowing the truth.
"No, it's fine," she said softly. "I can do it. Maybe if you just could show me again what pressure to apply?"
"Here," Neville said, moving her palm so it was facing upward, and pulling her sleeves back. "The plant has a sensitive stem, not all plants do, but this one in particular does. It's much like how your skin is sensitive in certain areas," he lectured, moving closer to Graces and leaning his head over her shoulder slightly. "Now, if I run my finger over your palm like so, you don't feel much." Neville was gently dragging his finger along Graces palm towards her. "But notice if I continue upward and move to the side of your arm, with the same pressure and speed, you begin to feel more."
Graces wondered if Neville knew the effect he was having on her as he ran his finger up side of her arm. It didn't seem like he did. Neville was still telling Graces about the plant, explaining how its stem was incredibly sensitive and how the way she touched it could either ease its nerves or make it more agitated. He didn't seem to notice that her face had become incredibly flushed. Or that the skin he was touching was slowly becoming heated. Or that she couldn't seem to take her eyes of his lips as he talked.
"Malfoy… Malfoy… Graces."
"Oh, what?" Graces asked, wondering how long she wasn't listening.
"Sorry… I didn't mean to bore you," Neville apologised awkwardly. "I sometimes just get carried away talking about plants."
"No, no it's fine. It wasn't that. Anyways, I think I got it now. Shall we?"
"Yeah, go ahead and take the shears again… That's much better. Make sure to keep the cut straight… Wonderful. By the way," Neville started as Graces applied the correct technique, "I never did thank you for earlier. You know, for not being cruel towards Hannah. I really appreciate that you took the note. I don't know how to thank you for that. You didnt have to do that."
"I can think of a way for you to thank me," Graces purred seductively. "Say, tonight after dinner?"
Oh my Gods. Did I seriously just say that? Graces' whole body was starting to flood with panic when Neville made no reply. She could not believe she had been so forward. She wondered if she sounded slutty for making such a brash suggestion. In her worry she forgot to pay attention to her movements and her hands slipped outside of Neville's arm barrier, allowing the plant to lunge towards her arm. When she jumped back to avoid a bite, she was pressed right against Neville and was even more surprised to feel something hard against her lower back.
When she looked up at the sandy haired boy, he was blushing violently and was pointedly looking up towards the ceiling his lips tightly pursed.
"After dinner is fine," he confirmed, his voice higher than he meant. He coughed a bit out of embarrassment, before continuing. "I'm free before though… If you.. well, if you wanted."
Graces smiled up at him, relieved to see that he didn't answer her right away from shock and apparently images that were jumping to his mind. "I can't earlier. Draco and I have plans."
"Right then," Neville nodded, clearing his throat again. "Lets finish the plant."
Graces didn't move though, she knew Neville wanted her to look away from him at the moment so she wouldn't see how flushed he was, but she didn't care she quite enjoyed him so unnerved.
"You can let go of me now," Graces pointed out, rather enjoying herself.
"Oh! Sorry, right," Neville sputtered letting go of his hold on her. "I just, well—"
"It's fine," Graces giggled. "Now, shall we get back to work?"
"Uh, yeah."
Graces continued to work, keeping in mind everything Neville had told her before hand, while at the same time becoming increasingly excited for their meeting tonight.
"So… ummm… Do you have anything specific in mind for how, uh, you want me to thank you?" Neville asked, pretending to be casual, but in actuality sounding nervous.
Graces would have dropped her shears if Neville hadn't had his hand around hers supporting them. Is he… is he trying to talk…
"I, uh, well," Graces blushed, "I liked that thing you did our first time," she whispered, making sure no one was paying attention to them.
"...what thing?"
"You know," Graces muttered, blushing. "That thing you did.. the thing with your tongue…"
"Oh," Neville said slowly, now understanding what it was Graces wanted.
"Of course you don't have to," Graces added hurriedly.
"Are you kidding?" Neville chuckled, pressing himself closer to her. "I have no complaints over that."
Graces was glad Neville was still behind her as she was smiling like a fool, and even more glad that there were branches from other plants hiding both her and Neville's face at the moment.
"I'll of course make sure to thank you as well for helping me pass this class."
"Will you?" Neville asked huskily, rubbing her arms with his fingers.
"Almost done?"
Graces and Neville both jumped back startled from the voice behind them. Professor Sprout was just standing there smiling, clearly not realizing that she was interrupting such a private moment.
"Yep," Neville confirmed quickly. "We're actually done I think."
"Wonderful," Professor Sprout clapped. "I wanted you to know that both of you passed. I don't need you to do it, Neville, since I've seen you with the plants so many times. I'm really happy you were able to participate, Miss Malfoy."
Graces nodded, still a little shaken from the Professor sneaking up on them. When Sprout walked away she let out a relieved breath.
"We should start packing up," Graces observed, moving towards the desk.
"Yeah," Neville agreed, noticing that most of their classmates seemed to be finishing up with their plants as well. "It looks like we did more pruning than the others, though."
Graces nodded, placing her book and other personal items in her bag.
"What's your next class?" she asked swinging her bag on her shoulder.
"Muggle studies."
"You would take that class," Graces sneered, but Neville noted there was no actual venom to her words.
"It's actually a very interesting class," Hermione commented, coming up to the desk. "We're studying electricity at the moment."
"Mmmm.. Granger, I actually have a question for you about the muggle world, that is if you wouldn't mind answering," Graces asked silkily.
Hermione seemed a bit surprised, but brightened considerably. Neville however was watching the two girls cautiously, not at all liking how sweet Graces' voice was. He knew that nothing sweet would likely come from a poisoned smile like that.
"Yes of course, what is it?"
"Do they not have any form of etiquette in the muggle world? I mean here in the wizarding world we know better than to just interrupt a conversation. It's rude and uncouth, but I suppose since muggles are so barbaric in other ways, medicine and dentistry being only two examples, is it possible that they have just not evolved enough to know to be polite?"
Hermione gave an indignant huff, ignored Graces' comment, and turned to Neville. "Are you ready to go?"
"Umm no, not yet. I'll just meet you in class," Neville said, feeling uncomfortable with both Graces and Hermione being so near one another.
"Don't be late tonight, Longbottom," Graces clipped, heading towards the door. "I despise waiting." Graces then looked darkly at Hermione. "Almost as much as other things."
"She truly is vile," Hermione growled as Graces left the Greenhouse. Neville didn't comment back. He had a feeling much of what Graces did was for show. While he believed she was irritated at the interruption Hermione had caused, he didn't think she actually meant any of the scathing comments towards her. "I really don't mind waiting, Nev," Hermione offered still standing beside him.
"No, it's fine. I wanted to talk to Professor Sprout, and I would prefer to be alone for it."
Hermione nodded, though she looked curious about what Neville wanted to talk to the professor about, she decided not to ask. Much to Neville's relief.
"Okay, see you in a bit." And with that she was gone.
Neville went over to where Professor Sprout was examining a very upset fanged geranium that clearly had been cut too deep. She was in the middle of putting on a special paste when Neville joined her in holding the stem.
"Neville," the professor exclaimed in surprise, "What are you doing here? You have class."
"I wanted to apologize," Neville murmured quietly, taking some of the paste and gently applying it so that it seemed inside the cut of the plant. "I know I was a bit… crass with you, and I may have stepped over some lines."
"It's alright, dear," Professor Sprout said kindly, putting a motherly hand on the boy beside her. "You were worried for her. I understand that. I was worried for her as well, I really didn't want her doing this project either."
"Then why didn't you just exempt her from it?"
"Like I told you earlier, my hands were tied. She needed to be able to do it to pass the class. If she wasn't able to do it here, I wasn't sure how she would do it for her N.E.W.T. exams. Also," Professor Sprout smiled, "I trusted that you were going to be able to help her. I didn't know how exactly, but I assumed you would think of a way. You truly are brilliant in this class, Neville, and I was thinking that maybe after you graduate you would like to enter an apprenticeship under me."
"Really?" Neville awed. "I'd love that. It's what I was actually hoping for. I was going to ask you about it next year."
"Well, as long as you continue to do well in the class, just consider it yours."
Neville was unsure of what to do, he wanted to actually hug the professor in front of him, but was unsure if that would be appropriate or not. Luckily he didn't have to decide, because Professor Sprout pulled him into an embrace on her own.
"You're really gifted, Neville," she cooed, still holding him close, "and so good natured. You're like your mother in that way."
Neville felt something clench in his stomach at the mention of his mother.
"I should get to class, before I'm late," he said awkwardly, breaking away from the embrace. "Thank you so much, Professor, I swear I'll continue to earn it."
Neville was practically walking on air as he turned down the lonely corridor to class. Most of the other students were all scrambling to not be late, having only three more minutes, but Neville just continued strolling, a smile still planted firmly on his face. He was about to enter the last hall, where his class would be, when someone pulled him into an empty broom closet.
Please don't forget to follow/review! Chapter 21 is super exciting, so be ready :P